


Vocabulary Lesson

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: A forty-eight hour pass includes a enroute vocabulary lesson from Actor, one soon to be reinforced by their own experiences. There was 'shallow', one of the many words Actor had pontificated about on the trip up to London, a word more than one of the men found themselves using that first evening, as unlikely as that would seem.  There was 'coiffures', and probably about five or six more.  And what about that word that had recently become popular around HQ - 'ripped'?  Seems it had a different meaning than what they'd come across before.  The obvious question there was, was being 'ripped' something to be envied, admired? And if it did evoke that sort of response, did that make the observer 'shallow'?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Vocabulary Lesson

It was a lovely forty-eight hour pass, increasingly rare anymore, and everyone involved was determined that nothing, absolutely NOTHING was going to spoil it for them, not even that long lecture from Actor in the car - a vocabulary lesson, of all things. Why he thought that was necessary, or even desirable, none of them knew, not even Garrison, so basically the con man talked into the air and everyone else ignored him as best they could.

They arrived in the middle of the afternoon, enjoyed the food and drink a smiling Henri Marchant had delivered to their rooms, and sat around making and sharing their plans for the evening. This, the first night, they were going their separate ways, each with a different notion of what 'relaxation' they required.

Casino had big plans for a woman he'd spent quality time with before, Karen - uh, somebody - who worked up at HQ doing - uh, something or other. She was built just like he liked, not too giggly, not more than he could put up with, anyway, and she had a healthy appetite for the kind of good time Casino could deliver. Yeah, he was looking forward to his evening, that was for damn sure! 

Hell, this time he might even think to ask what her last name was, just to show he was interested, though he was pretty pleased with himself that he'd remembered to ask what her FIRST name was. That hadn't always happened in the past, him being just as content with calling them 'Babe' or 'Cutie' or 'Sweet Cheeks' or something like that. But he had turned over a new leaf, starting with her, making sure to at least get the dame's first name. Heck, he'd even written it down in that log book, like the guys had teased him he needed to start doing. 

Well, that seriously creepy Valentine's Day card from 'Belinda' or whatever she called herself had shown him that wasn't such a bad idea. You just shouldn't be getting cards that mentioned the word 'wedding' from some broad you couldn't even remember getting up close and personal with!

Chief was intending to meet Ian O'Donnell and Jeffrey Ames for dinner. Ian wanted to pick his brain about Apache legends Chief might know, since Ian's father, also partly from the Apache tribes, was compiling a book about those and other Native American legends. The Clan had many of those stories in their own history, seeing as how the blood of the tribes and the Clan had mixed pretty freely through the centuries, but another addition was always eagerly welcomed. 

Jeffrey was included because, one, he was Ian's life partner, but also because Jeffrey's father was a scholar who delighted in myths and legends as well. While the senior Ames specialized more in the Celtic legends, Jeffrey had a sound grounding in the gathering and recording process through a lifetime of watching his father go about the process. 

Chief liked the idea of sharing his memories with these two, though the thought of his memories of the old stories being valued, respected was something he'd not experienced often.

Actor had been waxing poetic about "Lady Claudia Witherspoon, such an elegant lady, and obviously in dire need of some congenial, charming and worthy male companionship. She would also benefit from some sound financial advice, I imagine; her late husband left her quite wealthy. It would be unfortunate if some scoundrel managed to take advantage of her lack of experience in that realm."

Well, that was quite likely, both parts. A recent widow to a man fifty years her senior, she possibly WOULD like some congenial and charming company, and if anyone could be congenial and charming, that was their con man. And such a woman would be likely to attract some sly men thinking to take advantage. If anyone could give the right warnings against (other) con men or fortune hunters in their search for wealthy victims, well, who better? 

Garrison had sent a quick look Actor's way, warning him without words that that was ALL the man was to be doing, providing some 'companionship' and warning against a possible con, not putting a new con in place!

Goniff didn't even have to say - Meghada was in London, staying in one of the bedrooms at the far end of the hall anytime she wasn't otherwise engaged. HIS big plans for the evening included the room service menu and a redhead, and none of the guys around to tease him about his appetite in either regard. Well, mostly, anyway.

Garrison was scheduled to be involved in yet another 'meant to be helpful' meeting, and didn't hold out a lot of hope for having much of the evening to himself. (He didn't hold out a lot of hope for just how 'helpful' that meeting was going to be, either, but that was a different matter.) 

Although he did say, "if I DO get out early, I'm sure I'll find some way to spend the time. That means, do NOT get into the kind of situation where I have to come bail you out! And, yes, Henri will know how to reach me in an emergency, but I do NOT want to have to come after you for anything other than a real emergency! And raising bail money because you got in a bar fight is NOT what I consider an emergency. Understand??"

All of the guys groaned at that stern admonishment, offering their protests at the very idea, none more so than their pickpocket! 

"Blimey, Warden! You'd think we didn't know 'ow to stay out of trouble, the way you're talking! I, for one, am just looking forward to a nice, quiet, relaxing evening at 'ome, and I bet the rest of the guys are too! Well, not at 'ome, not for them, and only sorta for me, beings as we're 'ere, but you know w'at I mean. Just a nice bit of dinner, a little drink, some friendly companionship! That's all any of us 'ave in mind! No trouble, not a bit! Nothing to worry your 'ead about, right, guys?"

Goniff focused on keeping that innocent, slightly hurt look on his face. A look that just cried out 'don't you TRUST us??'. 

From the doubtful look on Garrison's face, it was evident that, no, he really didn't.

Only after Actor chimed in to offer his own reassurances of the sheer harmless banality of their plans did Goniff risk a quick look from under sandy lashes. Well, he didn't have to actually SAY anything, did he? Surely Garrison KNEW.

Yes, Garrison knew quite well that when he DID get out of that meeting, whatever the hour, he'd find a warm welcome a few doors down, and probably, knowing the two mother hens who tried to watch out over him, a drink and a nice snack already set aside and waiting. Provided Meghada could keep Goniff from making too many incursions into the plate, that is. But Garrison figured he probably would find most of it intact. As previously stated - BOTH were mother hens where Craig Garrison was concerned. While he found it somewhat disconcerting at times, he had to admit he found it surprisingly agreeable as well. {"That, and so much more, with those two."}

"See you later, guys. If not tonight, in the morning," Casino said as he breezed out the door. They'd all given a quick 'goodbye, have fun', then got back to their own business. Hopefully he'd stay out of trouble, but knowing Casino, that was questionable, more than with any of them.

Casino got back to their set of rooms at Hotel Marchant before the others even left, except for Garrison, and threw himself into a chair in the sitting room. Well, after getting the bottle of whiskey and a glass from the side table, noting the extra bottle of Scotch held in reserve. He wondered if maybe he should have gone somewhere else to sulk, {"uh, scratch that, that just sounds freakin' pathetic!"} Somewhere where he could 'calmly consider matters'; yeah, that sounded a hell of a lot better. 

He figured his team mates would have plenty to say about how his evening had gone so far once they found out, but he had hoped they'd all been gone by now. It didn't go down that way, of course. He should have expected that, the way his luck was running, and after all, Karen's place was just right around the corner, so the round trip hadn't taken long. 

He could hear Chief in the bedroom to the left, Goniff chattering away at him - and he could hear someone moving around in the bedroom to the right, so he knew Actor was in there.

"Thought you had a date with that blonde from HQ," Chief commented as he paused, coming out of the bedroom still buttoning his shirt. He hadn't figured on seeing his team mate til much later, maybe even the next day. But there he was, in the small sitting room at Marchant's, glumly downing a glass of whiskey. "What are you doing back here?"

Casino was too pissed to even bother lying.

"Well, it wasn't a date, nothing for sure, but I told her I might stop by maybe, so I figured she'd be waiting, ya know? I figured she'd be happy to see me; we had a good time before. But I get there, her roommate tells me Karen already left. Turns out she got asked out by some new guy in town, name of Jules Bellman. Gave this little grin, wolf-whistled when she told me, so I guess he's supposed to be really somethin' special. Barbie's date showed up about then, and wasn't too happy about seeing me there, so she didn't say anything more."

Which was too bad, that guy showing up, cause Barbie wasn't a bad looking dame; he'd have maybe made a move there, otherwise.

Though how this Bellman could be so special as to have a broad give up the chance to spend time with HIM, Casino just couldn't figure!

The other guys came in time to hear that, and he got razed a little about being stood-up for some other guy. That just didn't happen, not to Casino, not to hear HIM tell it, anyway.

Actor, surprisingly sympathetic, did try to console him. "And it's not as if she stood you up, exactly, Casino. You DID say it was not a date, as such, not a firm commitment. She probably felt she was free to accept another invitation, especially considering who it was from. After all, there appears to be considerable female interest in Jules Bellman. They call him 'Hercules', you know, the ones who work with him, and now everyone at HQ does as well."

Casino hadn't been with the team when the rest had gotten a glimpse of the newcomer to HQ. Now they filled him in on their own impressions.

It seems Jules Bellman had strutted onto the scene at London HQ like Hercules Triumphant, or at least that's how Actor had described him. 

"Both in demeanor and in looks, if rather uncivilized in manner, though I suppose that is appropriate as well. Partly Greek, I believe, which seems quite fitting, of course. He seems to consider himself the 'conquering hero' in every way, and expects to be regarded and treated as such. He has been working with the Resistance units in Greece, I have heard, and he and two of his men just recently arrived to brief HQ on conditions there. He is cutting quite a swath through the ladies at HQ, it would appear."

"The skirts do seem to notice 'im, right enough; seem real interested too. Seems they're saying 'e's w'at they call 'ripped'," Goniff offered with a wry look. He'd had to ask for a definition, the word obviously being used in a way he hadn't heard before.

Well, that wasn't something anyone would ever call HIM. The pickpocket was what some termed 'wiry', some 'slender' ; others - like Casino - just called him 'damn skinny'. In any case, he was quite aware 'wiry' didn't top 'ripped', at least not by most people's definitions. 

{"Just lucky not everybody thinks that way,"} he thought with some satisfaction, knowing the two whose opinion he really cared about in that regard obviously didn't.

"They don't seem to care much that 'e's pretty much of an ass, neither, not that I've 'eard, just that 'e's filled out like some of them statues outside the Mansion. You know, muscles on top of muscles, and not just like w'at Casino 'ere's got. Doubt this Bellman can fold 'is arms over 'is chest or cross 'is legs proper for all the muscles bulging up!"

"Dames!" Casino offered with a disgusted snort. Frankly, he was feeling a little ignored, a little under-appreciated here. Well, a lot, really. Hell, he'd given the dame a good time, hadn't he? What could this 'Hercules' give her that Casino couldn't, huh? She was just being, being - 

He knew there was a word, remembered Actor had even used it in that dumb vocabulary lesson he'd given on the trip up. Just what WAS it? No luck, maybe the others would remember.

"What's that word Beautiful was explaining to us when we were in the car, along with all the rest of that unasked-for vocabulary lesson? Starts with an s, I think. Sillo, sorrel, something like that. Whatever, it just fits with Karen and the rest of those dames!"

They looked at each other, but it didn't seem any of the others knew just what that word might be. That Casino even partially remembered, enough to know what it started with, showed he'd been listening at least a little, which the rest of them hadn't been, any more than they could help.

Actor realized then, and swallowed a laugh. "Do you perhaps mean 'shallow', Casino? 

"Yeah, that's it. Karen, all the other dames - they're all being damned shallow!" Casino nodded resolutely with a heavy frown. 

"Yeah, Pappy. Not like a GUY would go after some woman just cause of her looks, right?" Chief offered, mockingly-serious. "Like decide to make a move on her just cause she's a blonde bombshell or something."

Goniff grinned in wicked amusement. "Yeah, Casino. We're ABOVE all that. Right, guys? None of US are 'shallow' enough to do something like that. Just because she's pushing out to 'ere," making an improbably-expansive rounded movement with both hands, his arms extending their full length in front of him. "Or just because a skirt is dressed all fancy in silk, 'er 'air piled up on top of 'er 'ead in one of those fancy 'coiffures', and 'as a title like 'Countess' or 'Duchess' or even 'Lady' and such, don't mean we'd be all eager to go sniffing around. Nah, we're better than that; WE'RE not that 'shallow'."

Actor glared at their pickpocket, meeting those slyly-taunting eyes, that knowing smirk. It was one thing to rub it in with Casino, who obviously deserved it, but quite another . . . And for Goniff to deliberately use words the con man had so graciously explained the meaning of earlier - shallow and coiffures being among several - that was just annoying.

What was even more annoying, of course, was reaching the home of Lady Claudia Witherspoon only to find several OTHER charming, congenial, very attractive gentlemen vying for her attentions. And, for some odd reason, the lady didn't immediately dismiss the others upon Actor's arrival. No, like a queen bee, she just sat there, smiling at each of them, perfectly in control of the situation, laughing that attractive little laugh, not even singling the tall Italian out for any special attention! 

It was with a great deal of chagrin that he left after only a short time, leaving her with her retinue of admirers. Three phone calls in a row proved leaving an invitation to the last minute was not productive, even for him. 

The last woman he'd called was Lynn Garrison. However, having known about the forty-eight hour leave as soon as her brother, Craig Garrison, had told the men - having been hoping he'd call, until it was obvious he was not going to - had quite briskly hung up on him after a quick, extremely blunt "struck out elsewhere, did you, Actor? Too bad, so sad, SOOO not my problem!", showing she understood far more than he would have liked for her to about his evening plans going awry.

He resigned himself to a far less agreeable evening than he'd originally planned. 

He returned to the hotel, now finding only Casino in residence in the sitting room, still working on that bottle of whiskey, but now having added the bottle of Scotch to the middle of the table. Setting down the bottle of brandy he'd secured from the bar downstairs, Actor settled in to share not just the drink, but numerous and lengthy complaints about women in general, shallow and unappreciative women specifically, with the safecracker. They found themselves, for once, in total agreement - if THEY were being rejected in favor of someone not nearly as worthy, or just out of petty spite, then those women really WERE shallow! 

Chief returned to find the two deep in their cups, more than a little castaway, still bemoaning the sheer injustice of it all. 

He found it an amusing sight, the two men so different in so many ways, but now finding themself in such accord on at least this one subject - how surely no other men had ever been so unfairly and inexplicably mis-treated, so unappreciated, by the shallow, judgmental, so-called 'fair sex' than the two of them had been that night! It was even more amusing that Casino had his arm draped over Actor's shoulders, nodding sympathetically to that last repetition of just how badly Claudia Witherspoon had treated him, while at the same time tipping out another slosh of brandy into their glasses.

Well, HE'D had a good evening, anyway. Ian and Jeffrey were good company, appreciative of what he'd been willing to share in the way of the stories he remembered, them sharing a few of their own. Dinner was simple but most adequate, taken in a pub in the East End where the two partners were well known. And when that trio of pretty women had tried to tempt them into sharing a drink with them, hinting they'd be willing to share a lot more, Maude, the woman who ran the place, had caught Ian's quick glance and shoo'd the women away so the men could talk in peace. Although Chief had nodded his thanks to the older woman at that quiet word "I know Ian and Jeffrey aren't interested, but I can get you set up later, if you truly want me to,", he didn't really feel the need, was more than content just to head back to Marchant's and his bed.

Garrison had come back late from that oh-so-important (sic, sigh) meeting, having turned down various invitations from his cohorts for sharing a late dinner and a drink, even for seeking out willing female companionship. 

"I mean, Garrison, Bellman and his two friends can't have them ALL tied up for the evening! I'm sure we can find someone willing and eager to accompany a couple of handsome men in uniform for a few drinks and some fun, right?" one of his fellow officers had encouraged him.

His smiling shake of the head, "I've things to do, and it's an early morning tomorrow. Some other time, maybe," had been accepted with a shrug as the others went about deciding how to spend what was left of the night. Garrison had never been much of a joiner; they knew that, and accepted that about him. Well, as much of a Boy Scout as he was, he'd probably just put a damper on the fun anyway.

Back at the hotel, now inside the private section where he and the team had rooms, he paused outside the sitting room door, hearing the three voices from within. 

That was more than a little surprising. While Chief had intended to probably come back after dinner and some conversation, the other two hadn't. That was interesting, especially since by the sound of it, only Chief was anything approaching sober. 

Garrison knew there had to be a story or two there, but he had no intention of listening to any of it, not tonight. He'd already made his escape from those wanting his company back at HQ; he wasn't going to get trapped now, not when he was this close to his goal. 

Quietly making his way to the door at the far end of the hall, he tapped once, the sound hardly audible even to his own ears. Footsteps, then the door swung open, a welcoming smile greeting him. He stepped in, closing the door quietly behind him, and drew a deep breath. 

{"Home,"} letting his eyes feast on the two waiting for him, one pouring him a drink from the bourbon bottle on the side table, the other uncovering that plate that, from the looks of it, hadn't even been nibbled from. {"Now that's true sacrifice, or true devotion, or true love, or true something!"} Garrison acknowledged to himself with a smile, knowing how that plate of goodies must have pulled at his ever-hungry resident pickpocket.

{"A nice, quiet, relaxing evening at home,"} he sighed with deep contentment, their smiles meeting his, acknowledging their own contentment at his presence. Unbuttoning his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair, he settled in for what promised to be a most satisfying evening.

Of course, the next day Garrison and the others were regaled with the sad tale Actor presented. Well, after the conman had pulled himself groaning from the sofa where he had apparently spent the night. And after he picked himself from where he'd fallen with such a crash over Casino's prone body stretched out on the floor, the safecracker, for some reason, having decided to spend the night there instead of in his bed. 

When Goniff quizzed Chief about that, "just leaving them there without even a pillow or blanket or nothing?", the Indian just shrugged in disgust.

"I got back, heard all their complaining two times through before I figured enough was enough and went on to bed. They weren't ready, they said. Wouldn't even hear of it. Naw, they were still whining, wanted to finish the rest of BOTH bottles, hell, all THREE bottles, and tell their sad stories all over again. Didn't figure mixing bad whiskey, okay Scotch and good brandy was such a good idea, but, hey, their call. They wanna drink themselves stupid over being 'not appreciated' by some women, not my problem. Not like they were gonna come to any harm here in the room, and I'd a heard if they decided to head out anywhere. Figured they probably couldn't've anyhow, as drunk as they were."

That was probably true, since neither man even remembered Chief having BEEN there the night before! 

Actor and Casino spent the morning and most of the afternoon recovering from their massive hangovers. It seems brandy and Scotch and bad whiskey DIDN'T mix all that well, at least not in the quantities they'd consumed. 

Garrison, along with Goniff and Chief, spent the time in rather more productive ways, including a visit to the metalsmith Clan O'Donnell preferred to use. Finding that latest order ready and waiting for them made it a trip well worthwhile - a new throwing knife made to Chief's demanding specifications, a cleverly disguised palm knife for each of the other two, along with a new set of throwing points for them to take back to Meghada. And that old/new (perhaps even ancient) weapon he was tinkering with? It intrigued each of them enough they each took a try at it, before admitting ruefully that that many chains and spikes might just be a little noticeable if they started carrying one around.

Then, it was back to HQ for Garrison and a still-shaky Actor, the others to join them later for a quiet drink with Meghada and three of her friends. From the greenish cast on his second-in-command's face at the mention of alcohol, though, Garrison thought Actor might be sticking to just one drink, maybe even just water for the next couple of days.

Meghada had finished her briefing with Kevin Richards and gone to gather up Joyce and Anastasia and Evangeline, friends - Family Friends - who worked at HQ, to treat them to a drink with Garrison and the guys before everyone went on their varied ways for the evening.

"Actor and Casino will probably not be at their best, though, so please do make allowances for them. They experienced severe disappointments last evening in the romance department, it would seem, and spent the night drowning their sorrows."

"You mean they didn't get laid last night like they'd planned on, and started pouting and whining about how unfair that was?" Evangeline asked with a laugh.

"And then got drunk out of their skulls?" Joyce quipped.

"And now they have the world's worst hangovers?" Anastasia finished.

Meghada laughed, "exactly! I KNEW you'd understand!"

Then, on the way to meet the guys, they'd been blocked by the unwelcome presence of Jules Bellman and his pals delivering an invitation. 

An invitation that wasn't really an invitation but a smugly self-assured assumption that hadn't gone over well with any of the women, but Bellman seemed oblivious to the seriousness of their displeasure. Their words declining the 'invitation' made no impression, and he pressed, perhaps unwisely.

"Get real, you think playing hard to get is impressing me? It's not; I know what you want, and I'm just the man for that."

The sheer arrogance in his stance, legs spread as if to display his attributes would have been somewhat amusing under the right set of circumstances, but this wasn't one of them. Meghada really didn't appreciate being cornered by 'Hercules' and his two sidekicks, especially when she and her friends had someplace much better to be, far better men to be spending their time with, hangovers notwithstanding.

Bellman gave her a good look, up and down, nice and slow, and smirked knowingly.

"You're a real tough one, I hear, and I like that sometimes. Like someone who's not going to go all whimpery on me, crying and kicking up a fuss about a few bruises when things get real interesting. Now, don't want a tough female all the time, of course; I'm real flexible in the kind of woman that turns me on. Your friends there, I could go for them too, when I'm in the right mood. But I'll get to them later, maybe; gonna be here another week or so - got plenty of time. Right now, though, I'm in the mood for you, Red. So, how's about it? Jack and Lou, here, they'd probably like to get to know these ladies better too. We'll all go get a nice drink, see where the evening goes."

The other three women shot quick glances at each other. Jules Bellman was getting more and more annoying, but Meghada didn't seem all that concerned. Irritated, yes, but not actually concerned. 

That wasn't the case with THEM. Joyce, Anastasia and Evangeline were angry, yes, but also more than a little uneasy. Well, Bellman WAS a very large man, and his two friends almost as intimidating, and they were blocking the hall with not another soul around.

They, like many others at HQ, had discovered the attractions of 'Hercules' only lasted until he opened his mouth, and only the very dense didn't see that all those muscles didn't make up for all the 'stupid' and 'overbearing' and 'arrogant' and sometimes just plain 'mean' that were part of that same package. He might be one hell of a fighter, a strong warrior, but his caveman-level social skills left a great deal to be desired. Actually, the number of women who had sought closer contact were far less than what Hercules and his friends bragged about it being; the women of HQ didn't run heavily toward the stupid or naive.

Frankly, Meghada seemed more bored than anything else. Well, actually, she WAS bored with Bellman and his posturing, but she didn't like that her friends were being made to feel this uncomfortable. 

{"Really? He really feels THAT entitled?? How DOES his ego fit through the doors around here?? It appears to be bigger than Actor's and big brother Michael's combined! And the way the idiot is standing, posing? Just get him a theatrical cod piece, extra-large, stuffed with cotton or wool, maybe hanging to his knees or more, to make the point even more self-evident, let him strut a little more! Ah, well, the bigger they are, the bigger the target, whether you're talking egos or anything other."}

She sighed with impatient annoyance.

"Yes, I really AM turning down your 'invitation', as I turned down your previous one. I also am flexible in my acquaintances; I have an appreciation for TRUE jewels of various kinds. But you do not meet my definition of that. You are tedious, among other things, including boring. No, you are not a 'jewel', despite your name. You, Jules Bellman, are a clod. Now move out of our way; we're meeting some friends and don't have time for your nonsense."

Bellman picked up on the first part of her explanation for her rejection, deciding the rest wasn't worth considering. Or maybe he just hadn't understood it; he really WASN'T the brightest bulb in the pack. Cunning, in many ways, yes, a strong fighter, if rather simplistic in his technique, but not truly smart.

"Yeah, I heard that about you. You know, that you're 'flexible'. REAL flexible. How about we go test some of that famed 'flexibility'? Maybe, me and my buddies here test that, maybe see if your 'friends' here are just as 'flexible'. Yeah, I think that's a solid plan."

Somehow the snarls from Garrison's men, just arriving on the tense scene to see what was keeping the women, didn't point to that being a possibility. Garrison and Actor quickly pulled Joyce, Anastasia and Evangeline back to safety, knowing better than to lay hands on Meghada, the Dragon, who didn't seem to be looking for their help anyway.

Whatever the arrogant SOB's next words were, being couched in what Actor thought might be one of the less-common Greek dialects, none of the men understood. The tone he was taking and the nasty smirk on his face as he shared what he obviously thought was a private joke with his two friends, that said a lot, though, along with their laughter in reply, and that didn't need any interpretation. 

Meghada hadn't taken any of that well. She now had a scary sort of smile on her face, and ripped out a stream of words in that same language. Words delivered with such sneering contempt that, even without knowing the meaning, it caused THEIR skin to twitch as if it was being shaved away by the sheer biting venom behind the words. 

But, when it seemed he wasn't quite getting the message, even made a lunge toward her, she - well, she didn't stick with just words. 

It had taken less time than her brief response, by far. Well, Meghada believed in being forewarned AND forearmed, and had already made a number of inquiries regarding Jules Bellman, his strengths, his weaknesses, his vulnerabilities. Actually, it seemed he had several of the latter. That she found so many willing, even eager to share those with her, that pointed to just how personally unpopular he really was among the fighters and field agents.

Now, the shuddering mess that was Jules Bellman lay in the middle of the hallway, whimpering, curled up like an abused puppy. There wasn't an overwhelming amount of blood, nothing life-threatening anyway, although his nose was gushing, probably broken, and some of those talon slashes ran deep, having sliced through cloth and flesh with amazing ease. 

{"Odd, I never realized her fingernails were THAT long or sharp! It really doesn't seem possible,"} Actor thought. She'd held no weapon that he could see, and yet 'Hercules' Bellman now bore injuries that made it appear he'd been in a fight with a small leopard or maybe a very large bird of prey.

Then she'd turned to his two friends, being forceably held back by Casino and Actor - well, held back until they'd decided they wanted no PART of this, of HER, not anymore, not once the blood started flying, literally. 

Her voice was calm, detached, her expression even more so.

"You should probably get him out of here. I really don't care where, but he's obstructing the hallway. I'm sure that's against the rules somewhere, perhaps in the Fire Code?" turned her back on them and walked back to make sure Joyce and Anastasia and Evangeline were alright. 

"Now, about that drink. Where should we go?" she asked Garrison with an absolutely perky grin, Bellman and his buddies obviously already gone from her mind.

Garrison was pretty sure he'd be able to erase that memory. Eventually. If he put his full mind to it. 

What really disturbed him? The look of adoration mixed with sheer sexual desire the scene had prompted in his resident pockpocket. It just wasn't RIGHT, somehow!!! Either the look, the tone of voice, or anything else.

"Coo! Did you ruddy well SEE that??!" Goniff ground out, his voice even more raspy than usual, his breathing hitched.

"Yes, and I don't want to talk about it, thank you!" Garrison exclaimed with more than a little desperation in his voice than he was comfortable hearing. No, he really DIDN'T want to talk about it.

He should maybe have expected Goniff's reaction, but his own? That he was harder than he could ever remember being, especially in a patently non-sexual situation? That was just a little scary. No, scratch that, it was DAMNED scary, and the look of knowing amusement in the O'Donnell woman's eyes didn't help matters one little bit!

A drink later, one consumed most cautiously by at least two of the group, and further plans were made. Chief, Casino and Actor left, Evangeline, Anastasia and Joyce on their respective arms, for a quiet dinner and whatever else the evening might bring. Garrison pleaded other, undisclosed plans, and left; and Goniff and Meghada were, of course, headed back to make good use of that room and the room service menu once more.

And, later, Goniff had to admit he was more than a little relieved that he wasn't like that Hercules fellow. Ripped, you know. Well, remembering standing there in that hallway looking down at the well-toned, heavily-muscled, and totally asshole-minded Jules Bellman - how could he feel any differently? Now THERE was a man who was really RIPPED! Nope, he was just fine without all that. Looked ruddy painful, it did, in fact, and not many of those 'rips' were all that 'shallow'.

Meanwhile, loving hands tracing his slender outlines, skimming his body, loving lips whispered words of desire, of love, echoing his own touches, his own words - reinforced his earlier acknowledgement of reality as he now knew it to be. 

No, he didn't need to be 'ripped'. All he needed to be, amazingly enough, was himself. It seems that was all they really wanted, or asked. Made no sense, acourse, but seemed that was just the way of things. Might as well just get used to it. Seems that was just getting easier and easier to do; even starting to seem like that was just the way things were SUPPOSED to be.

He voiced all that in a low, drowsy but highly-satisfied whisper before settling down for sleep, and a small gurgle of laughter came in response, joined by yet another, deeper voice, chuckling but sharing his agreement with that sentiment. 

"Just yourself, just herself, just myself. OURSELVES - whether it makes any sense or not. Because, to me? Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't, but the oddest thing, Goniff? I find - more and more? I just don't care about it making sense, only that it seems RIGHT, just how it is supposed to be between the three of us."

"There, now, 'Gaida. Didn't I always say Craig was a right smart one?" Goniff offered around a deep yawn.

"Aye, laddie, that you did. That you did," Meghada replied, a yawn of her own encouraging her to wiggle a little further down into the sheets and slip off into a restful sleep.

As for Garrison? He lay awake just a little while longer, smiling contentedly into the darkness before he himself eased into slumber. 

In two days time they'd be headed off for another round of bombs and bullets, for another chance to get their heads blown off; but for now? For now, he was home.


End file.
